


Addicted (And Not Just To You)

by PAPERSK1N



Series: Guns 'N Roses [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/F, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Grand theft auto, M/M, Prompt Fic, Recreational Drug Use, This is a 'just fuck me up' with a happy ending, i really ran away with this prompt, this is also basically a platonic ot6, you see where I'm going with this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:02:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of continuations of Guns N' Roses. What happened next, ect, ect.</p><p>Following the downfall of Joel Heyman, neither Michael or Gavin are in a good place, emotionally. All they really need is each other, but they are too fucking blind to realise it.</p><p>Ryan and Ray are the only ones who can help</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addicted (And Not Just To You)

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt:  
> From Gavinscreamiing:  
> Mavin after the last heist totally. Like how they recuperated after what happened.
> 
> -
> 
> Yes I probably went way further than the prompt intended. I blame it completely on Leonardo DiCaprio's heart-breaking performance in The Basketball Diaries.

On the night that Joel Heyman died, things changed.

Michael was left feeling more alone in the world than ever, the usually comforting presence of Gavin by his side erased. Gavin had barely looked at him since they had arrived home, spending more time catching up with Lindsay and talking to her friend Barbara, drinking with Geoff and bickering with Ryan.

Michael was worried, but he had to push all thoughts of Gavin out of his mind. He had shit to take care of with Lindsay, first and foremost. He had to make things right.

The pair stood out in the cold of the garden for a little while after their talk, silently observing the stars. They were alone, together, the comfortable silence between them speaking all the words that neither of them could ever say. There was no love lost between him and Lindsay, and their never would be. Just because their romantic relationship hadn’t worked out, didn't mean that Gavin had been wrong. Lindsay _was_ his first love. Lindsay was always going to be his first love.

He spent that night almost completely alone. He didn't speak to the others, simply retreating to his and Gavin’s bedroom once the celebrations of being alive were over. He wasn’t sure whether to expect Gavin to join him or not.

When he woke up to an empty bed, he wished that he felt surprised

Michael stood by the door with the rest of the crew, waving Lindsay and Barbara goodbye. Getting them the car had been a last minute decision, but thankfully his mechanic was quick and a spray job on one of Michael’s old Adders barely took a few hours. He said his goodbyes, and Lindsay promised to keep in touch.

After they left, black marks from the tyres on Geoff’s driveway, the front door of 636 was closed, and everyone retreated back to their own safe havens.

Geoff went to the kitchen. After a good heist, or sometimes, a bad one, he’d retreat there and cook. He’d try out new recipes, and they’d be stuck with a buffet to get through almost every night. Sometimes, they’d box the leftovers up and make an anonymous donation to Los Santos’ homeless shelter. Sure, they were criminals, but they weren’t _heartless._

Jack followed Geoff, more than content to hang out with his oldest friend and make small talk whilst Geoff made stew or ribs or steak or whatever it was that he felt like that day. Ray and Ryan retreated to the games room, leaving Gavin and Michael alone in the hallway.

Neither of them spoke a word. Gavin wasn’t even looking at Michael, his eyes were on his phone, smirking as he scrolled through a page that Michael couldn’t see. Before Michael had a chance to even ask a question, Gavin had turned heel and walked away, heading towards the kitchen. Michael sighed.

Maybe he could go and play for a little while with Ray or Ryan in the games room, he thought. But, as he approached he could _smell_ the weed from the staircase, and he could hear the breathy giggles and the rustling of fabric.

So maybe that was a no on the games.

For the rest of the day, Michael simply hid out in his bedroom. He watched mindless TV and caught up on games. He hadn’t improved his Gamerscore so much in a single sitting in _years_. The day rolled into evening, and Michael’s eyes were beginning to redden from such exposure to the screen.

He glanced at the clock, which read **_18:03_**

As he wondered why he wasn’t hungry, Gavin strolled into the bedroom, a plate of ribs in one hand and a cigarette packet in the other. He smiled once at Michael, before placing the packet on the nightstand and flopping down on the bed.

“You alright boi?” He asked, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his text messages. Michael didn't say a word, just stared at Gavin.

It was strange, how you _thought_ you could know someone, and then they could just do somethin that completely changed your entire view on them.

“Geoff made ribs, they’re bloody _lovely_ , so I brought you a couple to share.” Gavin said, licking at his fingers as he dropped a bone on the plate. Michael’s stomach turned, and he winced at the thought of eating, no matter how good he knew Geoff’s cooking was.

The knot inside of him continued to twist and turn as Gavin picked at another rib, tearing the flesh off with his teeth, chewing quickly and swallowing, all as he chuckled at his phone. He finished the second rib, licked his fingers and wiped them on his jeans.

“Barbara’s just sent me a photo of her in the car on _snapchat_. Says she’s doing 120 miles an hour! The adder can probably go faster than that though, right?”

Still Michael was silent. Gavin must have caught on by that point, because he lowered his phone, turning to look at Michael.

“What?” he asked. “Michael, are you _cross_ with me?”

Michael sighed, looking away from Gavin and back to the TV. “No.”

“Then what’s the bloody matter?”

Michael just sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Fucking nothing, okay? Nothing’s the matter.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” Gavin shrugged, standing up off of the bed, tucking his phone in the back pocket of his jeans.

Michael didn't even bother to look at him. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” Gavin said with a shrug, “I need… I need a little fresh air.”

“Fine.”

The door shut with a loud slam, and Michael flinched. He picked up the plate of ribs, and set them down on the nightstand, next to Gavin’s cigarette packet. For a second, he considered smoking one, before he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought, and turned his attention back to the TV.

Michael didn't see Gavin till the following morning when he dragged himself to the kitchen. Gavin was sat down at the dinner table with his hood up and his arms folded stubbornly, as Geoff and Jack stood before him, Geoff looking angry and Jack just looking _tired_. Michael laughed to himself at how much they looked like parents.

Ray was sat up on the kitchen counter, something he never would’ve  have gotten away with if Geoff’s attention wasn’t drawn to Gavin at that moment, and Ryan was stood beside him, arms folded as the pair watched the scene.

“What’s going on?” Michael asked, standing on the other side of Ray. Only then as he leant with his back against the counter did he get a good look at Gavin’s face. “Oh.” He said quietly.

Gavin’s eye was circled completely by dark, bruised skin like a panda. His lip was swollen and his cheek cut, blood gathering around his lips. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin looked dry and flaky. His hair hung limply at his forehead.

“This isn’t fucking okay, Gavin- I _never_ want to be fucking called up by one of _my contacts_ , demanding for me to pick you up from the side of the fucking _street,_ again, alright?”

“Oh, fuck off Geoff.” Gavin rolled his eyes, sinking further back into the chair. “It was none of his business, and it’s none of yours either.”

“So you’re getting the shit kicked out of you on the side of the road, and it isn’t _my fucking business_?” Geoff demanded angrily. “Since fucking _when_?”

“I was _sorting something out_.”

“You were in _over your head_. It wasn’t some fucking roadside fight club, Gavin, you walked up to a guy who was twice your size and twice your age and tried to pick a fight! Look at your fucking face, that’s gonna take _weeks_ to heal.”

“I don’t fucking _care_ , alright. Leave me alone, Geoff. I’ve got a banging headache.” Gavin sniffed, standing up from the table and tucking his hands in his pockets, walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway. He headed towards the front door.

“And where the fuck are you going?” Jack called after him.

“Out.” Was all Gavin said. The only sound after that was the sound of the front door closing.

Geoff walked back into the kitchen, turning to look at Michael. “Did you and Gavin have a fucking fight or something?” he asked.

Michael’s fist clenched by his side. “Or something.” He said, before leaning up off of the counter and heading back out into the garden, towards his room.

It went on for a month or so, before Geoff finally snapped. Gavin was so far off the rails, he was in the desert, barely following the train tracks anymore. It started with little things. Gavin went out in the middle of the night. Sometimes he returned in the morning, sometimes he didn't return at all. Sometimes, he didn't come back for days.

He didn't sleep in the same bed as Michael anymore. Michael slept alone, and Gavin’s Union Jack pillow was left under the bed, because he couldn’t fucking stand to look at it anymore. Michael was fragile, that had been obvious since they had gotten Lindsay back, but none of the crewmates knew how to comfort him. that was Gavin’s job, to be there for him and hug him and remind him that he was just as important as anyone else in the group.

Work grinded to a halt, because it was hard to pull off a six person heist with only four members.

The few days that Gavin actually spent inside of Geoff’s house, it was clear to everyone that he was different. His skin was always dry and his eyes were sunken. His hair was constantly limp and greasy, matching the dark circles that sat under his dull, faded eyes.

He was skittish and on edge, always bouncing on his feet or scratching at his arms. Nobody knew why, at first.

Then Geoff caught him sniffing coke in the bathroom.

He had dragged Gavin by his ear out to the main room, tossed him on the couch and took the bag. Gavin had practically snarled like an animal, reaching out and grabbing for the bag, trying to fight Geoff. But it was no use, the drugs had made his body weak, his already thin figure  looked almost malnourished, and Geoff could easily overpower him.

Michael had barely spoken since that day. Gavin had ways of getting what he wanted, he always had done, and Michael kept quiet when he saw him sniffing or injecting or smoking alone in different rooms of the house. Nobody asked why Michael had gotten so quiet, they already knew.

Gavin's downward spirally was stressing everybody out. Jack was nurturing by nature, and was constantly worried every time Gavin left the house that he was getting hurt or that he was doing things he shouldn’t have been doing. Geoff was always pacing, a thousand voicemails left on Gavin’s phone every time he didn’t come home and a thousand text messages every time he didn't call back. For Geoff, Gavin was like a little brother, and his heart ached knowing that he was hurting and Geoff just couldn’t do anything about it.

Ryan and Ray, as usual, were the only rational ones. Ryan knew what Gavin was experiencing, he’d experienced it himself. Once you’d had your first taste of _pure_ , unadulterated _murder_ it was hard to find something that could compare to it. Love couldn’t give you the rush, neither could sex. Even drugs paled in comparison, but if you did enough of them, for a while, you could feel numb.

Ray spent most of his time looking out for Michael. It was silent gestures, like giving him orange juice and keeping him fed. Sometimes, at night, he would slip out from Ryan’s arms and creep across the grass, lying with Michael in his bed, keeping him warm at night. Michael needed the feeling of another body next to his, or he couldn’t sleep, and Ray was always there to cuddle.

The tightrope of trust that Gavin had been walking finally snapped, when Geoff was awoken in the night to the sound of Gavin, stumbling into the door, high out of his mind. Michael and Ray simply watched from the garden as the scuffle played out in the dining area.

They couldn’t hear anything from how far away they were standing, but seeing was enough. Jack had to hold Gavin back as he went for Geoff, who was holding his drugs and yelling at him. Gavin was yelling back, and it made Michael’s heart lurch when he saw the Brit’s pale skin and dead eyes. Eventually, they could make out Geoff’s scream of _Get out, and don’t fucking come back_ , before Gavin ripped himself from Jack, and marched out of the house.

Ray’s hand silently slipped into Michael’s, and Michael felt a tear slip down his cheek.

They didn't see Gavin for a month or so after that. Ryan and Ray, never ones to sit still, were out working jobs more often than not to distract them from the realities of their friends, falling apart. Geoff started drinking heavier and Jack stopped smiling, each crew member feeling like a part of them was gone.

But nobody felt it worse than Michael. He suffered through brutal nightmares, panic attacks, voices in his head, screaming at him that he wasn’t right, he didn't fit in, he was a liability and he was _worthless_. It got so bad one night that he woke up to Geoff and Jack bursting into his room, guns in their hands as they had heard Michael screaming, and thought that he was being murdered.

Geoff checked on him every hour or so every night after that.

One night, a month after Gavin had left them, Michael was awoken by the sound of knocking and scratching at his door. He frowned, knowing that Geoff and Jack both had a key.

Michael stood up, grabbed his gun, and approached the door, peering through the peephole.

And there Gavin stood, heavy over coat on, scruffy facial hair on his chin, hair longer, but thinner, hanging limply from under a beanie. He looked almost like he was _itchy_ , unable to stand still as he looked at the door, bouncing from one foot to the other.

“Michael?” came his all too familiar voice. “Michael, are you there?”

Michael was silent. Then the banging on the door started.

“Michael! Michael, can you open the door?! Michael, let me in! _Michael_!”

Michael felt the hot tears rolling from his eye sockets to his cheeks as he sunk down to the floor, wth his back against the door.

“Go away, Gavin.” He called weakly.

“Michael- I just… could I borrow some money?”

“Gavin, _go away_.”

“Like, five dollars? Ten- like, like twenty dollars? Michael? Could I borrow some money, Michael?” he slurred.

“Gavin, please.” Michael begged, face crumpled as the grip on his gun tightened and the tears kept spilling. “Go away.”

“Michael”

“Go _away_.” Michael yelled. “Gavin _fuck off._ ”

“Michael could I borrow some money-”

“Gavin _please go away_.” Michael’s voice was strained. The tears didn't stop and the sobs kept coming racking his entire body with _hurt_ , making his chest tighten. He wanted to let Gavin in, he wanted to clean him up and give him all the money in the world, but he knew that Gavin just wasn’t in the right mind for any kind of help. He’d take Michael’s money and he’d run, because that was just the kind of piece of shit that Gavin was.

And it _hurt_ , oh _fuck_ did it hurt Michael, as he sat on the other side of the door, sobbing with his head pressed against his knees, shouting and screaming for Gavin to go, to leave him alone, as Gavin pounded the door from the other side, begging Michael to let him in. when that didn't work, he moved onto a more brash tactic, getting up and kicking at the door, screaming through the wood.

“You _bastard, Michael. You fucking bitch! Let me in! Let me in you asshole! Fucking let me in, Michael! Michael please, let me in you fucking prick!”_

Michael wasn’t sure how long it went on for, but eventually, Gavin left. He reached for his phone, and hastily typed out a text.

_To: Ray_

_Gavin just showed up here asking for money. I didn't let him in… but he’s in the city. He needs fucking help Ray and I don’t know what to do._

It wasn’t like they could just check Gavin into rehab, with his criminal record and the cops watching their every move. Gavin had to make it through this without professional help, and he didn't have many friends.

Michael ran, the next morning, from his room into Geoff’s and spent the rest of the day crying into his boss’ shoulder, as Geoff hugged him tightly, rocking him back and forth and repeating over and over again that Michael had done the right thing, and that one day, Gavin would be okay.

Ray showed the text message he received from Michael to Ryan, who sighed. He locked eyes with Ray.

“You’re the only person who can help him, Ryan.”

“I know.” Was all Ryan said. He reached for his leather jacket, and zipped it up tightly, before kissing Ray once goodbye, and heading out of the house. He had hoped it would pass. Gavin would fall, but he’d climb his way back out, he’d save himself. But he hadn’t, and here Ryan was, trekking through the snow that covered Los Santos, desperately searching for the Brit.

Ryan found him in the early hours of the morning, laid in the snow in a public park. Ryan leant to the ground, and picked Gavin up in his arms, cradling the Brit into his chest. He was the only hope that Gavin had now.

* * *

 

When Gavin woke up, he was laid on a single bed in the corner of an empty room. His vision was hazy and a little blurred, so he had to blink a few times, before he locked eyes with Ryan, who sat across from him on a wooden chair.

“So, you’re awake.” He said.

Gavin flinched, and stood up, fumbling as he picked up his jacket, rushing to the door. Ryan moved with ease, sliding in front of the door, folding his arms.

“Ryan… move out of the way I-I’ve got to go.”

“Gavin, I’m not letting you leave.” Ryan said. Gavin frowned, trying to push past Ryan, and move out of the door.

“Ryan, I have to go-”

“-and I’ve said that I’m not letting you fucking leave. Gavin, you need to get clean.”

Gavin took a step back, studying Ryan with his eyes. Ryan didn't want to admit that even he felt  a little unnerved as Gavin’s gaze bore into his own. Then, Gavin reached inside his pocket, and his face fell.

“Where is it?” he demanded. Ryan smirked.

“You mean this?” he asked, holding up the small bag.

“Give it back!” Gavin lurched for it, but one of Ryan’s strong hands on his chest was more than enough to subdue him.

“You don’t seem to understand Gavin, you’re not fucking getting it back.”

“Ryan, give it over!”

“Gavin you need-”

“-You don’t know _shit_ about what I need Ryan, give it back!”

“Gavin-”

“Give it _back_.”

“You need-”

“Give it back!” Gavin pleaded, roughly going for another grab, but only managing to scratch at Ryan’s wrist. There was a pause, before Ryan turned, running out of the room.

Gavin followed him, ignoring how exhausted he felt from a few rushed steps across a small apartment. He struggled and yelled as Ryan made his way to the bathroom, tossing the bag in the toilet and flushing it.

That made Gavin livid, the rage boiling in his veins hotter than any drug ever could. He lashed out against Ryan, which even he knew was futile, but he had to _try_ , he had to _leave_ and-

“You really want to play this game?” Ryan asked, holding Gavin up by his neck against the wall. “Psychopath versus psychopath? I bet I'll win.”

Ryan’s fingers were pushing into his throat then making his face turn blue as the air from his lungs thinned and escaped. Ryan did it all with a coy smirk on his face, before he caught himself, and the pressure on Gavin’s throat released.

“Ryan, please.” Gavin begged, a stray tear escaping his eye and falling down onto his cheek. “Ryan, I need it.” He said quietly.

Ryan let him go after that. He took a step back, and Gavin stood by the wall, bloodshot eyes blown wide like a wild animal. Ryan sighed.

“Gavin… I- I just want you to know that this… this is gonna hurt me just as much as it’s gonna hurt you.” Ryan said. Before Gavin had the chance to ask what _this_ was, Ryan’s fist had slammed into his face, and the world went dark.

* * *

 

Ryan had been gone for a few days, but he texted Ray regularly enough with updates. Ray didn't share much with Michael, because the pain that it sounded like Gavin was going through wold for sure be too much for his best friend to handle at that present time.

Michael and Ray went back to their old ways, but this time the roles were reversed. Ray was the strong one, Ray started the conversations. Ray held Michael tightly when he cried at night, Ray made sure he ate and drank enough water.

Ray was his fucking saviour, and Michael made sure he knew he was grateful.

“It’s nothing.” Ray said, “You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count, and I'll always do the same for you, alright?”

“Remember when we used to be better friends?” Michael asked.

And that made Ray laugh aloud. It was a cheap joke, old and corny but just so _them_ , so Michael-and-Ray, and it made Ray smile, knowing that Michael was getting there. The bounce was slowly making its way back to his hair and the light was slowly coming back to his eyes, but Ray still knew that one vital piece of Michael was missing.

“Once… once Gavin comes back-”

“-Who says he’s fucking coming back?” Michael interrupted. Ray looked to his lap.

“Ryan’ll help him.” he said.

“And you’re so sure that he can?” Michael asked. Ray nodded.

“I’ve got every little bit of faith and trust into that mask-wearing creep. He’ll do whatever it takes. We all love Gavin, no matter how much of an annoying prick he can be. We all want him to get better.” Ray said, linking his fingers loosely with Michael’s.

“So then what, everything just goes back to normal?” Michael said discontentedly, scoffing as he did so.

“No.” Ray said, leaning his head on Michael’s shoulder. “He’ll have a lot of making up to do. But nothing’s changed the fact that he loves you, Michael.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Ray said. “Ryan said. He keeps asking for you, crying your name and shit. He’s in a lot of pain, because Ryan’s got him completely off the junk. Ryan says that he, uh, he calls out your name, sometimes. He wants you there with him.”

“He does?” Michael asked, voice cracking as he thought of Gavin and the pain he was going through. Nothing had changed the love he had for Gavin, and his heart ached, willing for all the pain and all the bullshit to end.

“Yeah.” Ray nodded. “Every psychopath’s got a soft spot. Believe me, I’d know.”

Michael smiled at that, hanging his head slightly so he and Ray were in an odd sort of embrace, Xbox forgotten and _YOU ARE DEAD_ left glowing on the screen. “Thanks Ray,” Michael said. “For looking after me.”

“Like I said, you’d have done the same for me, man. I love you, and shit.”

Michael laughed softly. “I love you too, man.”

“No homo.” Was the last thing Ray said, burrowing further into Michael, and resting against his chest, as the two fell asleep.

* * *

 

It felt like someone had ripped open the skin all over Gavin’s body, and was then proceeding to pour salt all over his bleeding form. He lurched in his bed, choking on his own spit as he yelled and roared for Ryan, for Michael, for Geoff and everyone else. Nightmares swirled in his mind every time he fell unconscious, and his wrist ached, having being bruised and cut from the amount of times he had smashed it, splitting the skin as he tugged at the handcuffs attached to him.

As a particularly bad seizure ripped through him, Gavin arched off the bed and screamed Ryan’s name.

“Please Ryan, just a little. Just a _taste_.” He begged, closing his eyes tightly as his entire body _vibrated_ and tears leaked from his eyes onto his face. He could barely make Ryan out at first as he looked over.

But there he was, sitting in the same chair across the room that he had done for days, head rested in his hands as he looked at Gavin.

“No, Gavin.” He said, voice hoarse and shaky. It hadn’t occurred to Gavin until then that Ryan might have meant what he said, before he smashed Gavin in the face. “I can't. I won't let you.”

“Then, please… take the handcuffs off.” Gavin begged, pulling his arm against the radiator again. “They _hurt_ Ryan. Everything _hurts_ and they’re making it _worse_.”

Ryan sighed, and stood up, walking over to the handcuffs and unlocking them with the key. Then, he retreated back to his seat.

As soon as Gavin could move his arm again, he leant forwards, falling out of the bed. His legs were too weak to walk, so he dragged himself onto the floor and began to crawl over as Ryan watched.

Every movement hurt more, and a few tears leaked from his eyes. But eventually, he made it over to where Ryan sat, nosing at his hand like a dog.

Ryan whimpered, allowing his hand to settle in Gavin’s sweat soaked hair. “It’ll only be a few more days Gavin, I promise.” He said. “Then you’ll be okay. It hurts now, but you’ll be _okay_.”

“How do you _know_?” Gavin cried, pulling himself up so he could grab onto Ryan’s waist, lying his head in his lap.

“Experience.” Ryan said quietly.

“Please Ryan,” Gavin begged, writing where he knealt. “Make it _stop_.”

“Go to sleep, Gavin.” Ryan said, cupping the back of Gavin’s head with his hand, holding the Brit against him. “I promise you, if you go to sleep… it’ll all stop.”

“Okay.” Gavin sniffed, nodding his head. It was barely five minutes before Gavin’s body went limp, a fair soring sound filling the empty room. Ryan lifted Gavin up and placed him on the bed, and wiped the tears away from his own eyes.

He left the room, pulling out his phone and dialling Ray’s number.

“Hey.” Ray answered immediately. “How’s things?”

“They’re okay,” Ryan said, keeping his voice steady. Ray didn't need to know how difficult things were, because he'd only worry about Ryan. And Ryan really needed Ray to be repairing Michael, who was arguably in the most pain. “He’s getting better.” He said.

“Are _you_ okay?” Ray said. “I know you’ve-”

“I’m fine.” Ryan quickly cut him off, eyes once again moving to the room Gavin was sleeping in. “I uh, I miss you.”

“You’re literally across town.” Ryan could hear the lazy smile in Ray’s voice, and felt a little better.

“I know, but… I can't leave. I won't leave him. I should’ve stepped in and helped him before it got this far.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Ryan. He got himself into this mess. Everyone feels guilty, but it doesn’t change the fact that this was his doing.”

“Yeah.” Ryan sighed. “How’s Michael?”

“Better.” Ray said. “He’s slowly perking up. It’s just… Joel got to his head, the bastard. But he’s getting better now. Realising that his biggest weakness is also a strength.”

“That’s good.” Ryan nodded. “Did you give him the anti-depressants?”

“He refused at first, but I convinced him. They’re really making a difference, actually.”

“Good, good.” Ryan sighed, feeling a little relieved. “How’s Geoff, and Jack?"

“Both fucking worried, but relieved that you’re with him. Geoff’s never stopped feeling guilty for kicking Gavin out in the first place.”

“Tell him he did the right thing. Gavin needed the reality check. If Geoff hadn’t… he might’ve been dead by now.”

“I know that,” Ray said. “I'll tell him.”

“Alright. I'll talk to you soon.”

“I love you.” Ray said.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

* * *

 

Getting clean went through stages. There’d be a day when Gavin was fine, sitting cross legged on Ryan’s couch, staring at the TV and eating chips. Ryan would sit next to him, and Gavin would rest his head on Ryan’s shoulder, talking wistfully about getting back to 636, apologising to everyone and getting back together with Michael.

And Ryan would smile, letting Gavin lean against him as they spoke. He’d let his arm rest across the back of the couch, cradling Gavin in a friendly embrace. He’d listen at everything Gavin said, from a funny memory he was recounting to a scientific theory that he’d heard about somewhere in a bar seven years ago.

And then some days, it’d get so bad that Ryan would have to handcuff Gavin to the radiator all over again as he kicked and screamed and cried. Gavin had bruises all over his face from where he had smashed his head into the cold wall. The bed sheets he laid on were stained with blood from where he had clawed at his skinny legs with his bitten fingernails, crescent shaped cuts littering his thighs and his shins.

And every time when Ryan wanted to let him go, he’d remember how _good_ things were going to be once Gavin got better.

And that he did.

It took weeks, of course. Weeks of just the two of them, holed up in the tiny apartment. On good nights, Ryan would sleep on the couch. On bad nights, he’d nod off in the wooden chair, sitting opposite Gavin's shivering form to make sure he didn't make a run for it in the middle of the night. On really hard nights, he’d sit on the bed with Gavin cradled against his chest, and the two would sleep together.

One night, when it was particularly bad and Gavin got particularly violent, Ryan had to leave the room all together, settling on the floor with his back against the door. Gavin was leant against it on the other side, clawing at the wood, desperately trying to escape as he shouted and screamed at Ryan, calling him every name under the sun.

“Just let me fucking _go_ , Ryan, you _bastard_! I need to get out, and I need to be able to _feel it_ again. _Let me fucking go!_ ”

“Gavin, stop-”

“You’re _killing me_ , Ryan,” Gavin sobbed. “I’m going to die in this _fucking room_ , and it’ll be because of _you_.”

“Gavin, I know what you’re going through-”

“You don’t know _shit._ ” Gavin panted. Ryan winced as he heard the strain in the Brit’s once soft voice. He had screamed himself hoarse nights ago, and his words were harsh and bloody.

“Yes, I _do_. I know how you feel.” Ryan called over the sound of Gavin groaning and crying on the other side of the door. “You’ve got this _want_ , this _desire_ inside of you. It started from the moment you ripped that guy to shreds under Joel Heyman’s eyes. And it’s so fucking _hard_ , because you know that it’s _wrong_ and you know that you _can’t_ but you need something else to rival the feeling. Love and sex and pain and violence and  _emotion_ just isn’t enough for you anymore, so you look for release in something else!” he shouted.

“You try it once because _why not_ , right? And then it’s like nothing you've ever experienced before. You run through that fucking field of _euphoria_ , and you feel like finally, somethings stopped the craving. It’s a Saturday night habit, to keep you sane and to keep you stable. But then Saturday night turns into Sunday morning, and then before you know it… there you are, sitting in a bar at eleven o’clock on a Wednesday morning, with nothing else on your mind than your next hit.”

“And you _can’t stop the feeling_.” Gavin finished, from across the door.  He had stopped fighting, and seemed to be lying slumped against the door. “You try and you try." he sobbed "You do every fucking drug you can get your hands on, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling the emptiness _._ I did it every day because I thought it made me feel _good_ , and then suddenly, it didn't feel good anymore. But I couldn’t fucking stop, Ryan. I _couldn’t stop_.”

“I know, Gavin, it’s okay-”

“It’s not fucking okay!” Gavin yelled. “I hurt him, Ryan. I hurt _Michael_.”

Ryan could only sit in silence then, and listen to the sound of Gavin, crying himself to sleep against the door.

Gavin stopped asking for drugs all together when after he spoke to Michael for the first time. He’d been doing well, so Ryan set up a phone call. Things were difficult between them at first, a little awkward and a little stiff, but quickly enough, they got back into the swing of each other. Michael called Gavin _a fucking idiot,_ and Gavin laughed, calling Michael _lovely_.

Phone calls turned into gaming sessions, and Gavin would stay up to the break of dawn talking to Michael through his headset as the two made their way through game after game. Ryan didn't mind, because of the way the contact made Gavin _glow_ , his skin finally regaining its tanned complexion, and his hair bouncing back up as he made more effort to style it.

Gavin didn't just speak to Michael, he spoke to the others too. He sat on the phone for hours to Geoff and then to Jack, crying and apologising for what he had done and the way he had treated them. He thanked Ray immensely for taking care of Michael whilst he hadn’t been able to.

“Just, I know that after all the Joel stuff… he was really vulnerable. And I should’ve been there for him, but I wasn’t- I was an idiot.”

“It’s alright, Gavin.” Ray had replied. “Once you get better and you come home, you can make it up to everyone. You were hurting too.”

“Yeah.” Gavin nodded. “But I’m not anymore. I’m alright now.”

As he said it, he looked across the room to Ryan, who smiled at him. “I really am. I’m _top_.” He said, locking eyes with Ryan the entire time.

Ryan taught him how to control his urges. The bloodlust and the _want_ to hate and to hurt was still there, but it was duller, and he had the power to subdue it. He ate better, and filled out more, putting back on all of the weight that the drugs had shed from him.

It was like watching someone pour _life_ into Gavin’s veins, and on the day when he was packing up the clothes that Ryan had bought him in order to head back to 636, Ryan couldn’t help but cry.

“Oh, _Ryan_.” Gavin said with an everlasting fondness in his voice, smiling through the tears in his own eyes as he hugged Ryan tightly. “Don’t cry.”

“Sorry.” Ryan said, hugging Gavin back and sniffing back a tear. “I’m just really proud of you.”

“Thank you, Ryan. For everything.”

“I didn't do anything, Gavin.” Ryan said, releasing him. “You’re the one who went through all that pain. And you made it through to the other side. That was _all_ you.”

Gavin grinned, but shook his head. “ _Nah_ ,” he said. “It wasn’t just me. If it wasn’t for you, literally picking me up off of the street, I’d be dead. But look- you found me, you took me in. you fucking… handcuffed me to a bed and pumped me full of food and water and now look.” he beamed, grin stretching from ear to ear. “I’m alright. I’m really, really alright. And I'll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Come on.” Ryan said, smiling. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

 

Geoff was the first one at the door when Gavin slipped his key into the lock and opened it. He couldn’t stop himself from lurching forwards, hugging Geoff tightly. Tears fell from his face but he didn't make an effort to stop them as he sniffed, breathing in Geoff’s familiar scent.

“I fucking hate you.” Geoff said, swaying slightly as he hugged Gavin. “I fucking hate you so much.”

“I love you too.” Gavin said, pulling away. He locked eyes with Geoff. “I’m sorry.”

“ _I’m_ sorry, I should never have-”

“You had every right to kick me out.” Gavin stopped him. “I was an idiot I was… dangerous, to everyone. But I’m alright now. Ryan fixed me.”

Geoff smiled, and moved to hug Ryan tightly as Gavin walked into the house, hugging Jack tightly. The bearded man actually lifted Gavin off of his feet, making him laugh.

Ray was next, hugging Gavin surprisingly tightly, but quickly, before making his way over to Ryan. Gavin whispered a thank you and an apology in his little Hispanic friend’s ear, but Ray just shook his head.

“Michael’s in your room. Go to him.”

Gavin left his stuff in the hall and began walking through the house. He wasn’t sure at what point he’d moved into a sprint, across the garden, down into the annex. He knocked on the door, forgetting that he even had his keys.

“Michael? Michael, I’m… I’m home.”

The door clicked as it was unlocked, and opened. Michael stood in the doorway, looking up at Gavin with tears swelling in his eyes.

Gavin grinned, blinking and letting a hot tear spill down his own cheek. “Hello love,” he said, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. “Did you miss me?”

“You asshole.” Michael said with a slight sob, before he pulled Gavin into a hug, wrapping his arms around his waist. Gavin reciprocated, pulling his arms together across the back of Michael’s shoulders, crying into his clavicle.

“Never, _ever_ do anything like that again.” Michael said. “Please, don’t ever leave again.”

“I won't.” Gavin promised. “I'll never leave. I am so, _so_ sorry, Michael. I wouldn’t even argue if you told me to fuck off and to never come back.”

Michael smiled. “Yeah, you would.”

Gavin hiccupped a slight laugh and sniffed. “Aright,” he said, drawing back from the hug. “I would. I'll always fight for you, Michael. You’re… you’re really, really special to me. And… I know it’s been a while but… do you think maybe we could… try again?”

Michael smiled. “You dickhead.” He said. “Like I’d ever say no.”

Gavin grinned and stepped into the room, the door closing behind them. Jack, Geoff, Ryan and Ray stood watching through the large glass doors of the dining area, and smiled. Geoff wiped a tear from his eye, and turned to Ryan.

“Thank you, Ryan. For bringing him back.”

“He was never gone.” Ryan said, wrapping his arms around Ray, who stood leaning against Ryan. “He was just a little… lost. I helped him find his way back home, that’s all. The rest… that was _all him_.”

“Are you okay?” Jack asked. “I mean, it must have been hard, being isolated so long with Gavin… in recovery.”

Ryan shrugged, sniffing a little. Ray turned around so he could hug Ryan properly, and Ryan wrapped his arms round Ray, resting his chin in Ray’s hair. Still, his gaze didn't move from Gavin and Michael’s annex.

“I’m alright,” he said. “I'll… I'll be fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have something you'd like to see from the Guns N' Roses universe, leave a prompt in the comments of any of the Guns N' Roses fics! I look forwards to hearing as many as possible, and I will do my best to write as many as possible!
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreicated<3
> 
> Thanks.


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